Black Strawberries
by Shenya
Summary: Hunted, darkness, fear....danger, distrust, cold....safe, uncaring, passion....death. Strawberries. Thief King Bakura x Atem, nonEgypt, AU


DISCLAIMER: Nope... Don't own Yugioh. But the plot is mine, don't steal it... -__-;;  
  
WARNINGS: spoilers (if you know Yami Yuugi's real name, you'll be fine), yaoi  
  
SUMMARY: hunted, darkness, fear....danger, distrust, cold....safe, uncaring, passion....death. Strawberries. Thief King Bakura x Atem, non- Egypt, AU. Valentine's fic for anyone who might care. And, as I've said before, I'm not good at writing fluffy stuff. Not willing to try writing fluffiness, and wanting to write a Valentine's fic...well, this is the result. *grin* Tried a different style in this one, hope you like it.... Oh yeah, and there's a pic, too, in case you're interested. Not about this fic, you understand, but it's a V-day card of a sort that I drew. To see it, go to www26 .brinkster.com /yamishenya/ yamivalentine.jpg Feel free to use it as long as you don't edit the pic.  
  
Black Strawberries, by Shenya  
  
The puddles of water on the dark alleyway didn't reflect any light. There wasn't any light to reflect... The light of the moon didn't reach down there, the little space for the alley was deep between two tall buildings. The mouth of the alleyway was lighted on one side, though, the soft glow of the streetlamps on the road next to it reached a few feet into the dark abyss of night. On the other side was only darkness, that way led deeper into the jungle of narrow spaces between shabby buildings, hidden from the view of the day-time world. The place was empty and silent, except for the sound of sirens somewhere in the distance. It had been for a long time now. Nobody dared to come here during the night, not this late. It wasn't a very safe area to be in.  
  
Apparently someone had forgotten that, or didn't know. Or was forced to come here... Heavy breathing and hurried footsteps echoed off the walls on the main street, and then headed for the alley. Not long after that the person followed, immediately searching out a secluded corner to hide in and trying to quiet his breathing.  
  
The light of the streetlamps gave the silent watcher a few stories above a good view of the person before the shadows engulfed him. He wasn't exactly tall, but something in the way he walked, something in the way he held his head high, told the watcher that this wasn't a person to mess around with... But right now, it didn't look like the person had the upper hand of the situation. His dark, skin-tight jeans had several cuts in them, one or two of those cuts revealing wounds with dried blood covering them. He had a black jacket of thick leather hanging from one shoulder, it seemed that the person felt too warm to wear it properly, even though the night was somewhat cold. Not like one of those endless nights during the last summer, it had been the hottest summer in fifty years. A sleeveless black tank-top was revealed under the jacket, fitting the person's slender form perfectly. He was wearing an earring and a choker that might have looked cheap to an inexperienced eye, but the watcher knew that in fact they must be somewhat expensive. Worth stealing? Perhaps. The only piece that would make it worth the trouble was the golden, upside- down pyramid hanging from a chain around the person's neck. That would make it more than worth it, even if he was caught because of that. But that piece of jewelry was exactly the reason why the watcher didn't want to attack the person. That, and the individualistic hairstyle – black of the deepest ebony, a rich purple fading into a dark violet, and pure gold, so elegantly combined – told the watcher exactly who this person was. He knew him. They had met many times in the past; in this life and in past lives.  
  
But it seemed like tonight the person didn't have his luck with him, and his famous skills seemed to have deserted him. For him to be losing this badly in his own game... The watcher nearly felt like chuckling. But he knew better than to do that; he was a shadow, a low whisper, a small gust of wind in the night – never seen, never heard.  
  
The watcher shifted his attention from the person down below to the mouth of the alleyway when he felt a...disturbance. Something was approaching this place. Or rather, several persons... if they could still be called that. Soulless husks. Mere vessels for the darkness that had eaten them, bodies that had been granted inhuman powers in exchange for those things the darkness so sorely needed – fodder for the soul-eaters, soldiers to carry out its will, new knowledge of the world. Everything was accepted as payment. Everything was _required_ as payment for that... And the chosen human didn't have a choice, never. The darkness took what it wanted, who it wanted, when it wanted. And it was winning over the world. As the soulless bodies appeared from behind the corner, scanning the place with their darkness-born senses, the watcher grinned in silent glee. These were the lowest class of the soldiers! For the person down there to nearly be defeated by them, he must have fought for hours already. Perhaps ever since the sun had set...  
  
The soldiers slowly approached the place where the once-pharaoh was hiding, now not a single sound emitting from the shadow that hid his form from preying eyes. He had become exceptionally good at hiding, that much the watcher was willing to grant him.  
  
The watcher felt a gust of wind stir his short, pure white hair as he stood on a metallic step of a fire exit above the people down in the alley. His unbuttoned long, crimson trench coat brushed against his sun-tanned legs covered in loose white pants as he climbed to the railing. It had seen many chaotic nights, that coat, and the result was seen in the numerous rips in the thick fabric. But somehow the watcher had become attached to that coat; it seemed to fit him so well, whatever the reason. The black sash operating as a belt tightened momentarily across firm stomach muscles as the watcher who had previously been so still flowed into action and jumped down, eyes now sparkling with excitement and madness, mouth twisted into a grin that would have clearly told any sane person that this one didn't hesitate to kill.  
  
The golden ring against the bare chest clinked softly as he landed in a crouch behind the soldiers. He was no longer a watcher. He was a hunter. A judge. A savior, for whatever reason. He never let anyone know why he did the things he did, if it didn't help him attain his goals. Straightening slowly, he gave the soldiers time to turn around, time to notice him. The grin widened, pulling on the scar beneath his right eye, when he noticed the momentary flash of fear in their eyes; a remnant of the souls which had once inhabited those bodies.  
  
"Well well well... Look what we have here... You should know that coming within ten feet of me means instant death for your kind"  
  
The darkness slowly eating the world may have been powerful, but it wasn't stupid. The soldiers quickly turned and fled deeper into the maze of alleyways. They might have been willing to corner a weakened Carrier, but facing one of the strongest of them in full health... They had no chance.  
  
The watcher who had now become a hunter looked indifferently as the soldiers escaped into the night. He could have killed them. But that hadn't been his purpose in coming down here. So he let them go... To be played with later. The world was his playground, the shadows his ally, and he bore the ancient power of the Ring. They would have no chance against him.  
  
"You can come out now, Atem"  
  
Hesitation. Then the shadows moved, revealing the drained person, now safe from his pursuers. But he knew as well as the watcher did that he had only entered into a different danger, a one that was much more serious than a couple low-ranked soldiers of darkness. He was face-to-face with one of the other Carriers now, and for thousands of years none of them had had a good relationship. None of them knew why, except perhaps the watcher, but he never told, never even hinted. The once-pharaoh and the other Carriers were left in the darkness, always wondering at the past. Which suited the watcher well.  
  
"Why did you do that, Bakura?"  
  
The watcher shrugged. Perhaps he didn't have a reason. Perhaps he merely didn't want it to be known. Perhaps... well, there were many possibilities, and none of them any more likely than the other.  
  
Silence. The one known as Atem now and in ancient times shifted his weight from one foot to the other.  
  
"You don't seem to be hurt very seriously. But be more careful the next time, I won't come to scare those things away every fucking time you get into trouble."  
  
"I don't expect you to"  
  
Another silence. The dark eyes of Bakura, the Thief King, the Carrier of the Ring, met the crimson eyes of Atem. They looked black in the dim light.  
  
"Thank you"  
  
The Thief King closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. The wind pushed a stray strand of white hair to his face. The Pharaoh Who Was No More crossed his arms and waited. The creases of his leather jacket vanished nearly to nothingness where it dug into his skin just below his shoulder. It must have hurt, but he didn't seem to care.  
  
"Come along. We can't stay here, they'll most likely send something stronger to check once those soldiers get to make their report."  
  
After a second of hesitation Atem followed Bakura, slightly surprised by his own actions.  
  
---later---  
  
The room was silent, except for the slow breathing of the two Carriers. The one who carried the Puzzle was sitting on a soft armchair which had seen its days of glory perhaps many decades past. A matching sofa stood near it. Contrary to the frayed covers of the two pieces of furniture, there were clearly expensive paintings on the walls, and in one shadowy corner of the room there was a pile that glistened suspiciously like gold. Random odds and ends were visible; the butt of a dagger, a bracelet with diamonds inserted into it, the curving shape of a saber's edge.  
  
The Carrier of the Ring kneeled next to Atem's feet, tending one of his wounds. Atem himself was watching the Thief King with eyes narrowed into small slits, suspicious of slightest movements of his hands. There was no explanation given, once again. There never was when Bakura was involved.  
  
One hand of the thief rested lightly on the once-pharaoh's thigh; not for support, maybe to keep him still. Maybe just to remind the other who was in control of the situation, or maybe it was to give that impression.  
  
A slightly sharper intake of breath revealed the pain felt under the calloused hands of the thief. The other apparently paid no attention, but both knew that if he hadn't had an advantage before, he did now. Never show weakness to your enemy.  
  
Crimson eyes glowed an otherworldly light in the shadows the numerous candles created. The eyes of the thief revealed nothing.  
  
Suddenly there was movement, the Thief King rising to his feet.  
  
"Done. Make sure you don't get into such a situation anymore"  
  
"I can take care of myself"  
  
No response, other than a grin at the walls. Shadows danced in the deep scar on the dark brown skin.  
  
"Have some wine?"  
  
Revealing a bottle of a dark red liquid, the thief grinned. They both knew what the response was. He put the bottle away, after taking one glass of it himself. There was no gain in not taking it, no reason why he shouldn't.  
  
A clink as the pharaoh changed his position. The thief took a small sip of his wine.  
  
"What are you going to do now?"  
  
Downcast eyes, the vibrant color now hidden. A shadow passing over the paler face.  
  
"I mean... you have already killed all your companions. Friends. Whatever you call them."  
  
Pain. Clear suffering clouding the face of the one who had once been the mighty pharaoh of Egypt. A grin on the dark face of the thief. The winner was clear now.  
  
For now... The thief's rule had begun.  
  
An offered glass, full of red wine. Waiting.  
  
The pharaoh slowly reached for the glass, not looking at the other. A brief touch of hands before the thief withdrew his, leaving the pharaoh to taste the bitter drink.  
  
"It doesn't matter"  
  
Two minds, both knowing it to have been a lie once.  
  
The Thief King reached a sure hand to touch Atem's hair. He had wanted to try for so long, to see if they were as soft as they seemed to be, despite the sharp angles they rounded the face with. He wasn't sure of the answer, left to ponder it in the darkness that was his mind.  
  
Eyes meeting; the other pair from a face that was dull, uncaring, the other pair from a face dominated by the sense of victory he finally allowed to touch the shady features.  
  
Silence. Two unmoving figures, one standing, the other still sitting. Expectation... There was a sense of waiting in the air. Something was about to happen.  
  
The thief slowly leaned forward; the air was thick with old memories and feelings, the shadows of what once was.  
  
Lips touched lightly, eyes stared into others with a challenge written clearly into them.  
  
Defeat. One pair of eyes closing.  
  
Dark, dark hands slowly reached for a chain, removing it simply because it was in the way. Two slender and strong bodies pressing against each other, one demanding and the other...simply uncaring. Allowing anything and everything to happen.  
  
The flickering lights of the candles reflecting shadows in the walls of the single room, shadows of two persons, wrapped against the other. Air becoming filled with passion and revenge that had craved for fulfillment several thousand years.  
  
---later---  
  
White hair barely moved in the slight breath of air that resulted from the thief sitting down next to short body made so much taller by the gravity- defying hair. A strawberry, slowly raised to the lips still slightly bruised from recent actions.  
  
"You know, you should've just fucking gave up a thousand years ago..."  
  
A cooling body, left to the frayed couch to rot.  
  
---  
  
AN: ........no comments by the author here. Please review! ^^;; 


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